I cast the door a dark look. “He should be killed,” I answered. “For Mother. And Grandfather.”
“Not today,” he answered. “Not this night. Keep to your plan.”
He knew of it, and approved. He too, had always been a ruthless bastard, another cur.
I nodded, took a deep breath, opened the door, and inside, Marcus turned and looked at me with wonder.
“Look like a true fighter,” he said. "You do look like one. You always did, but not like this.”
“You look old,” I told him. “And evil.”
He laughed and nodded. “So,” he said as I closed the door and crashed on a bench, holding my wine. “First things first. Yes, I knew.”
“Of Father’s plans? And that our villages would be burned?” I snarled.
He rubbed his hands together nervously. There was a die between his palms. “I met Maroboodus long ago when he was fleeing the North,” he explained. “Was in trouble with his father, your grandfather, and with Bero and Maino, all refugees in search for a home. There was unfortunate business with the Hermanduri, and some unkind men of Rome, and then there were Antius and I, and yes, I worked for Antius for a time. We both took advantage of him, and he took advantage of us, and the rest is history. I knew he was coming. I knew Hulderic had to die.” He hesitated. “I didn’t know your mother would too. Neither did he.”
The silence that followed was almost audible. I kept myself from killing him.
“So, Father found his land,” I said softly. “And survived meeting me.”
Marcus smiled. “He came back to the Marcomanni after the battle with Drusus, with many of his men missing, no bear banner, no sword, and survived the thrashing you had given him,” he said. “Unhappy with many things that had passed, he did come back, and brutally squashed all the opposition in the tribes. He had raised men in the Eastern Marcomanni, and had kept those men in reserve, and those men gave him all the influence he needed, even after the losses he took. He took them all to the Boii, and I, having spent years with the stupid Celts, knew everything there was to be known about them, and especially of amber. Taking three large hill-forts doomed the Boii. The forts had men I had bribed guarding the gates, and the rest was bloody murder. The battle in the plain after this was just a formality. He is a king, Hraban. The Germani hate kings, and he doesn’t call himself one, not yet, but he is, indeed, a king of a growing nation. And I am his treasurer.”
He looked at his palms, and I decided Gernot was right.
There was something wrong with him, he was in trouble.
Good.
He went on, bravely. “Of course, the plan was for Livia to make sure he was eventually forgiven, formally received his kingdom, and even got Postumus, blood of Marcomanni and Rome both.” He scowled. “She never sent Postumus north. She was supposed to pretend he had died of fever in Rome, and then she was to smuggle him north, and now she is still dangling him before Maroboodus? Disgusting. She has made a mess of it.”
“Yes,” I said. “She has.”
“Bah!” he laughed. “Maroboodus is not happy, but it seems we must now find new ways to secure what your father needs.” He smiled. “We got a curious scroll. I smelled your sweaty palms in what Tiberius wrote.” He shook his head. “You sure? It is a risk. You know your father, don’t you? It is a bold plan, and one that leaves you crippled.”
“Does Maroboodus agree?” I asked him.
Marcus shrugged. “He has begun, as you have heard. No large-scale war yet, no. But we are working, and as you requested, I have asked Livia to see Postumus.”
“Good,” I answered, and gathered my bravery. “And is Postumus the only one he asked to make sure is alive?”
He smiled benignly. “No. He has asked to see Gervas as well.” He smiled. “She agreed.”
Bitch Livia agreed, I thought, and laughed with relief.
He looked sad. “It is a risk, Hraban. You know this.”
I tapped a finger on the table. “It is, but we must take it,” I answered. “It is the only way. Tiberius must be returned to Rome. And he and Father must work together, and find trust. Livia,” I said coldly, “must have her fangs pulled.”
He hummed. “Your father is curious about him. Of Gervas.” He smiled as he watched me. “And of you. He still is.”
“Lies,” I answered and smiled bitterly. “Tell him Julia is going to die.”.
Marcus was mulling over the words. “Julia?”
“Julia has been banished,” I said simply. “She won’t come back. She will die, one day soon.”
“Won’t come back” he asked, and I wondered if Maroboodus still had hoped to reclaim the woman as well. “I see. But we agree. We aren’t happy with Livia.”
“Stop saying ‘we’,” I said. “It is ‘he.’ You are just a wreck in his service.” I eyed him. “Treasurer, eh? Have you lost his coin?”
He opened his mouth, and then shut it. “It’s a dangerous world up north, Hraban. Like Rome, but with fewer unwritten rules. Yea, I gamble. I always did. It got me mixed up with Antius to start with. And perhaps I have gambled away horses and cattle that are not mine.” He shook with terror. “I can only hope your father won’t find out.”
“To whom?” I asked.
“To whom?” he whispered. “Many. But mainly to these four Hermanduri. Warlords of your father, all four. Brothers the lot, one is my escort. Herman, they call him. Nobles of the high blood, and shits to boot. Gods, but if they claim all I have lost, I will die, because it is not mine to lose, but your father’s. It is my trouble, but I admit I am terrified. They use me to gain your father’s favor.” He shook his head. “Wine, women, and dice, Hraban. It is a terrible stew.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “So, good luck. When will you meet with Postumus?”
“She sent me a note,” he answered. “I will meet her tomorrow. And I shall see Postumus in three days. You never see your son?”
“No,” I said sadly. “Will she be there when you meet Postumus?”
“I doubt it.” He shook his head. “You and your father,” he laughed. “In the same fix with Livia. I am sorry! No wonder you want Livia cut out of the deal.”
“Exactly,” I said. “I want her in a grave, but that must wait.”
He got up. “Gods help us, then, and you especially, who plan to kill such ladies. Let them help us, for they owe us. I bid you good life, Hraban. I don’t expect to see you again soon. Especially if I cannot stop gambling.” He laughed softly and left and I waited for Gernot to come in.
He looked at me and nodded. “He will let me know where they meet. You must be ready, with your men. And I have bought you a band of mercenaries. It is a good band, and they will serve us for as long as is required. It is going to be shit expensive, but there it is. We need them. Thracians, the lot. The Yellow Band, led by a man with golden eyes.”
I got up, and embraced him. “Thank you. And then?”
“Gods willing, you will be free of your shackles, I am free to make riches, and the scales are in balance, until the gods fuck us in the ass,” he laughed, and I grinned.
I left, and made my way to the Block. Gernot was right. So was Marcus. We were due some luck, and yet, Woden liked to kick his playthings in the nuts, and if there was one thing I had learned, it was never to treat life as a certainty.
And I wouldn’t.
My plan made sure of that. For now, with the luck of gods, we might soon rip Livia’s fangs from her maw, and free our loved ones.
With the luck of gods, they would all survive.
A raven fluttered over me, headed for the North, and I knew Woden was listening.
Two days later, Gernot sent me word. Marcus and his guard were set to visit a walled domus outside of Rome that evening, just after many unknown guests were to arrive.
CHAPTER 14
The house was on top of a hill that hosted an impressive wood of cypress trees. They were swaying gently on the breeze that blew from the mountains, and Gernot’s spies had made sure
it was Livia who owned the house. We were not that far from Rome, and there had been a lot of traffic to the house the past hours.
This was Livia’s moment of weakness.
We all, including my friends, intended to make the best of it. I had defied Livia’s invites for two days, and now, I would strip her of her guests.
I looked up to the villa, which was at the end of a road that ran through the wooded hillside.
Guards walked the perimeter.
They were mercenaries with subtle gear, and shining armor in rare cases, and all had swords under cloaks. They also patrolled the woods, and the hillsides. They were not lax, or tired, or drunks, but attentive as shit. The domus wasn’t your usual Roman villa. Like many of Livia’s houses, this one had a surprising, unusual architecture. It resembled a small fortress. It had at least three stories, hefty gates, and walls.
“Careful,” Tudrus whispered as I gazed up for too long. “Careful. Patience now, you need to have some damned patience. This might all be over for us soon.”
“You are supposed to have a sore throat and snot, so you be careful,” I reminded him, nervous to the bone. He and the rest were not on duty with Gaius that day. We needed every warrior we could find, but we also had mercenaries, and a plan, but I wasn’t sure if it would suffice.
“How many?” he asked.
“Gernot said at least thirty,” said a rough Thracian with long, oiled hair, his face gleaming with sweat. “Let’s hope there aren’t too many coming with the wagons. We cannot possibly take fifty.”
“We take a hundred,” Tudrus said savagely, “if there is a hundred. This is our day. Finally.”
He was desperate to solve our issues. He didn’t admit it, but he was hoping to find peace and freedom, and to leave Rome. He would try to make me join him, but he feared for Euanthe and Agetan.
I worried silently with the Thracian, who sat with us on a trunk next to a road. The man was called the Gold Wolf, and he did sport a wolf-like set of eyes as Gernot had mentioned. The man’s thick muscles and hairy arms made him look even more barbaric than most of his men. He reminded me of a smaller Leuthard, but this one had a ready smile, an easy manner, and probably didn’t worship Hati the Wolf, or eat his victims. He led one of the better mercenary outfits in the land, the Yellow Band. Gernot had bought the man’s service and they were discreet and professional. The man sneezed and gazed at me. “This mistress you are dealing with is not playing around, eh? Gernot said there might be ten or so guards with the wagons, though more might join them. His spies spotted them on the road from the south.” He looked sheepish. “I admit I had a man of mine go and have a look. There are six rich wagons. There are women, children, and the guards seem like soldiers, only not dressed like soldiers, and so I think we are in shit up to our necks. One richly dressed man was riding amongst the guards, and seemed to be in charge, but only seemed. My lad has a good eye for detail, and he thought this man was being looked after like one would look after a high prisoner. That’s the man we’re looking for, yes? Anything you want to tell me?”
I smiled. “Not really. You just do what you have been paid to do, eh? We rescue the women and the children, and that man. The rest must not see the daylight. What did that man look like?”
Postumus. I was curious.
“Like he has a turd stuck in his throat,” he answered. “I asked. The man said he was a bitter boy, looks like a Germani in silk though. That’s what my lad said. He could be exaggerating. You’ll see soon enough. And I’m not a happy one. My boy and my girl are waiting for me, and I’d like to go back to them and spoil them rotten. Coin only takes you so far, eh? I’d really like to know who the man is.”
Tudrus chuckled, and I grinned. “Well, with any luck, you will see me hug my wife and son soon. The man matters little in comparison.”
He gave me a brief look, slapped away a fly and nodded. “So, that’s it, then? Mainly for family? I can live with that. My band can as well.”
“Thank you,” I said, watching a rider clatter past, on his way north.
“Sabazios help us,” the Gold Wolf muttered, invoking his god to aid him, and hopefully, us.
Woden was notoriously quiet in my head.
“Indeed,” I said, as I looked up and down the road. There were plenty of people sitting on the road sides, as travelers were plentiful on the stretch. The fine road was ironically called Via Cassia, and led north of Rome. Families, couriers on fast horses, locals on their way to and from Rome, caravans of trade goods and many of slaves were going up and down the fabulously constructed way paved with stone and layers of sand. I had seen legionnaires meticulously building such before. With these roads, they controlled the lands they took, and where Rome went, such a miracle was built soon after. In Luppia Valley far in the North, they had begun to build them to split the Sigambri apart from the Bructeri and the Marsi, but how much Tiberius had built there during the time I had tried to trap Julia, neither he, nor Flavus, who had often ridden north for Tiberius, had told me.
I shook the gloom off my shoulders.
And failed.
Armin’s face, as he fell to the sea came to my mind, as did that of Flavus.
The brothers were both dead, severely hampering my plans, but it couldn’t be helped.
Thusnelda. If I ever saw Thusnelda again, how would I tell her of Armin? Or Sigimer, their father?
“There?” Tudrus asked, and I roused myself. We all looked at a caravan approaching with riders. He was right.
It is them.
There traveled a long line of wagons, and around them, rode dozens of men. They were rich looking vehicles, and their riders were dressed in red tunics.
“What if,” I asked, “they are dead. My family. Adalwulf’s? What if this is only Postumus?”
Livia might defy Marcus on the matter of my child. Postumus was a different matter, but there was a chance she was not willing to bother with Gervas. It was possible they were indeed dead. “What if they didn’t bring Cassia, but only Gervas, and Gisil is lost with Adalwulf’s son? What—”
“Then,” Turdus said, “We will mourn with you. I will. But they are there.”
“How do you know? Can you see them?”
“Shut up, or you give us away,” the Gold Wolf said with a grin and I sulked, looking at the long line of wagons, most with closed cabins. I tugged at my hood, and hoped none would know me.
“You are wrong,” Tudrus said merrily. “Because yes, I can see both Adalwulf’s and your lady,” he said with a grin. “I see them both. And they have boys with them.”
I got up, he pulled me back to the log, and kept a hand on my shoulder, and kept pressure on it. Men rode past.
And then I saw her.
Dark hair thick and strong, braided around her head, Cassia sat on a bench of a wagon, and my son was with her, speaking with an old man driving. She was beautiful, proud, and strong, and looked healthy. So did Gervas. Barely five, he was serious, his strong face and dark hair reminding me of my younger self. He gazed back at the looming Rome’s hills, where teeth-like buildings could be seen dotting the hillsides. He was speaking to Cassia now, who, as beautiful as the stars themselves, sat up and leaned back to stare at something he had been interested in. Gervas was smiling, she was nodding. On another wagon, next to another driver, sat Adalwulf’s Gisil, also dark haired, a beautiful woman with their son Wulf, years older. He too watched Rome and then the Roman outline, and called out to my son.
They were friends. And still alive. And now, in danger.
“This is a bad idea,” I said.
“We agreed,” Tudrus said stiffly. “This is our only chance. The only one. There will be no other chance, and this will have to do. To flee from Rome, and find peace far from here was the plan. My Euanthe already left and is waiting. Your brother has arranged everything.”
“And we must be paid,” the Gold Wolf said with worry. “If you call this off, we must be paid. Mind you, if some of my boys die, you need not pay them. Might be
cheaper to go ahead, eh?” He nudged me. “Your family must be set free.”
I sighed, and knew they were right. “Gods keep them safe,” I whispered, staring at the two I had not seen for a long while, and yet missed enough for my heart to burst.
“Ten riders, so forty all in all,” Tudrus said, “and dozens in the woods. Going to be interesting.”
It was going to be harsh, and deadly. If I died, I could only beg Antonia would tell Augustus the truth. I could only pray my loved ones would survive.
The wagons rumbled past, and we sat silently as they did.
A richer wagon than the others rumbled last, with silver etched wheels, and purple drapes over a window. A man rode behind, leading a magnificent horse.
“He would be in there,” Tudrus said.
The Thracian handed me wine in a gourd, I drank some and then his eyes gleamed as I watched the riders. “No shields, but they must have hasta and pila in the wagons. They are keeping a low profile, but not too low. Former soldiers, to be sure.”
“When Augustus wants to see his grandson Postumus, he has to wait for days?” Tudrus asked, and I pushed him.
The Gold Wolf choked. “What? Postumus?”
I nodded. “Postumus, indeed.”
“This is … you are …” He went quiet, and shook his head. He was being paid very well indeed.
“He will be safe, and in no danger from us,” I said. “Don’t worry.”
He gave a soft, hysterical laugh.
I went on. “Augustus doesn’t want to see him, for one. And Postumus is held in the coast, while our families are usually held further in the South, apparently, few days away. If he wishes for Postumus, he can get to see him fast. Livia’s plans—”
“Shit,” the Thracian said, and grabbed his gourd back, and emptied it.
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